Fresh Start
FRESH START
A second chance on us He confers:
The words drift down silently from on high
In peaceful soft sounds, in white whispers
He tells us to begin again with a sigh.
His earth is bedraggled, dirty and worn.
It is begun again with canvas white in winter -
Each year He starts with fresh paint to adorn
The tired branch and every leaf forlorn;
Grimy buildings and rusting fences are reborn,
Are fewer, pure, newer.
Spring’s green bouquet, and harvest’s crown
With winter’s white are now fresh painted:
Earth’s own new-sewn gown.
A second Eden, spotless, untainted.
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